


The Selkie's Galleon

by ashryvergrace



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, LGBTQ Character, Multi, Selkies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashryvergrace/pseuds/ashryvergrace
Summary: The (mis)adventures of Reagan Talis, selkie, adventurer, troublemaker and pirate.
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just for my own fun, so if you're reading, thanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rising Storm Season 12058

Reagan Talis was never what one might call 'normal'. If she'd been human, she would have been the kind of girl who preferred to hang out with the boys, the kind of girl with grazed knees and blood stained knuckles, the kind of girl most girls were scared of. 

And being such a girl, there was never a sense of fitting in. For the most part, the boys thought she was too much a girl and the girls thought she was too much of a boy because, well, in either case, she was. And those that were inbetween were too busy just trying to lead their own lives to get involved with someone who was known for being a whirlwind of ups and downs, of ecstatic wild untamed joy, and of dark days of thunder clouds which are always on the brink of pouring rain.

The day those thunder clouds rained was the day Reagan was fifteen years, two months and seven days old. Having spent most of her life in the black waters of Obsidian Lake, the lake of her home, the lake where Selkies lived in unknown numbers, leaving was not quite the case of packing her bags. Reagan surfaced in the middle of a storm, rain hammering onto the surface of the water, no land in sight, lightning rattling the very stars.

By the time she'd reached land, she'd contemplated the concept of leaving the three people most important to her: The first was her dad, Roguan, her most faithful believer, the man who'd been with her since before she could remember, a good man. The second was her father, Brinndhar, who she'd first met at eight years old and who had been a fast friend, one willing to sneak her treats she wasn't meant to have and who was just as likely to get into trouble as she was. And the third was her best and only friend, Mira from clan Valbos, a highly intelligent, if quiet, selkie two years younger than her, who was ninety percent of Reagan's conscience and impulse control. Who Reagan had been wildly in love with since she was twelve years old... to the extent that any twelve year old can be in love with someone. Her pining, however, went by unnoticed by Mira, who seemed oblivious to the pretty little flowers and beautiful fish and seagrass wreathes Reagan showed or brought or made from time to time.

So, sitting on the rocky beach a few miles outside the tiny port village of Il'dhan, rain lashing against her skin, Reagan tucked warm memories of them away into the corners of her heart. She forced herself to her feet, and moved to the cabin which sat there, a cabin she'd been in only once before, and one which she'd found her way to not by her own memory, but by the collective memories of an entire race of people. It wasn't much, but it was warm and there was a roof, and that, for now, was all she needed.


	2. Obsidian City

It took Reagan exactly eleven days of watching the inhabitants of Il'dhan to figure out the societal norms of the world above the water. The fact that it was a town closely related to her race made it somewhat easier, but there are always things to make blending in harder, and she certainly didn't want to stand out. Not yet at least. By two weeks, she'd booked passage on a ship travelling to Obsidian City, crossing the lake. She'd once been told of the Obsidian Order, a group of highly trained monks dedicated to being protectors, though of what she did not know. The days on the ship were quiet, full of long moments of contemplation, staring down at the black waters and up at the lavender sails, clouds crawling past, lazy. Though the option presented itself, Reagan mostly kept to herself, staying in the tiny cabin she'd paid for rather than interacting with the various other fourteen to seventeen year olds who seemed to hang around together on a day to day basis.

By the time the ship docked in Obsidian City, Reagan had read everything in her cabin twice, broken into the navigator's quarters and studied every map, stolen one of Obsidian City as well as broken into the treasury and stolen what she'd counted to be nearing twenty gold as well as a strange pretty ring. She disembarked, tucking the map under her arm and double checking her coins, dagger, tunic and cloak, reminiscing over the dagger as she wandered towards the city centre. In general, weapons were presented along with rings as form of engagement before marriage, however, very small, delicate, intricate and beautiful daggers or throwing stars or darts were often presented as gifts from family or friends on important birthdays or graduations. For Selkies, their second coming of age happened at fourteen years of age, and it was traditional for very close friends to present each other with one such small weapon. The one Mira had given Reagan was a blue-ish metal, magically treated to be impervious to rust. Having never used it, she had no idea if it had any other properties, but it was something she was looking forward to discovering, perhaps a little more than she should.

The city of Obsidian was both more and less than what Reagan was expecting. It was bigger and busier, with so many different people, carriages being pulled by hippogriff or horse, wolves, griffins and other animals padding through the streets, all without a second glance. The Obsidian Order's stronghold was the other side of the city, which meant a three hour walk, which, she realised could be reduced by taking a horse, so at the next opportunity, she untied the reins of a horse tied up outside some kind of emporium and swung herself into the saddle, setting off at a brisk canter. With the traffic in the city, however, it still took two hours to reach Ingar Palace.

Thousands of years ago, Ingar Palace had been the seat of power for an ancient civilisation, for a kingdom which spanned the continent, ruled by a king with an iron fist, but after the division, the kingdom fell and the continent had to remake itself. The palace was - symbolically - all but destroyed, left as rubble and in paintings and long forgotten memories. It wasn't until two thousand years ago that it had been rebuilt, piece by piece from the ground up and now served as the stronghold for an order which vowed to keep rulers like King Hollin in check. 

Arriving at the gates, the palace was both beautiful and imposing. Though hundreds of miles from the Glass Sea desert, sandstone had been imported to build it, and as a result, the bottom four floors were navy and indigo with the occasional glimpse of silver embedded like stars in the night sky. The upper three floors were made of Dhurillian sunset sandstone from the mountains to the east, with the first of the three being varying shades of purples, the second being shades of pink and red, and the third being shades of orange and gold. It was a beautiful monument for something which held such a grim past. The black gates swung open silently as she slowed down and rode through, glancing around at the well groomed gardens and the looming height of the building, which was easily the tallest in the city.

As she dismounted, a small human boy dressed in a charcoal grey tunic and pants, likely no older than eight, took the reins and smiled politely, guiding her horse away. Seeing no entrance, she proceeded to walk around the palace and grounds, which took nearing an hour, taking in the gardens, the people working there, and admiring the way the afternoon sunlight made the palace look as if it were glowing. She noted three things:

One - there were people of all ages working the gardens, all of them wearing the same charcoal grey tunic and pants as the boy who'd taken her horse, but most were very young, no more than twelve or thirteen. She decided these were acolytes, people who were in the very beginning stages of their training who had to do all of the jobs, cooking, cleaning, laundry, gardening, anything which could be considered service.

Two - every so often, she would see older people dressed in all black, which, she thought, must be the students. Each of them had most likely done their time as an acolyte and had made it to training. They wandered alone or in small groups mostly, but every so often, she's see a larger group being ushered around or instructed by someone dressed in black and charcoal grey robes with silver embroidery, which she gathered were the tutors and instructors.

Three - there was a fourth set of people wearing similar colours to those of the tutors in a completely opposing style, closer fitting and designed for manoeuvrability. These people appeared to be Obsidian Order operatives, temporarily at main base for instruction or meetings or other important business.

In the gardens, hidden among the flower beds, Reagan sat down, staring at the building for a moment before closing her eyes, slowing her breathing, stilling her mind, trying to focus on herself and find her moment of calm. She found her mind wandering to a dream she'd had for as long as she could remember. In her dream, all she could see was a beautiful woman with golden tan skin, golden brown hair, gold eyes and a circle of horn, like a halo. She never spoke, just smiled and offered her hand.

"Mind if I join?" A voice interrupted Reagan's thoughts, and it took nearly all of her willpower not to leap up and draw her tiny dagger. Instead, she opened her eyes to find a peryton around the same age as her with grey-brown hair and wing feathers carrying a wooden staff and wearing one of the more modern asymmetric tunic types with a pair of cropped pants, wings currently tucked tightly into their sides. "Peri. What's your name?"

"Reagan. You work here?"

"I'm training under Elder Auris," they said, sitting down more gracefully than Reagan had imagined they would. "What are you here for?"

"I... don't know. To train I hope. I don't really fit in at home. I figured people come from all over the continent to train here, I might be a little less of an outsider." Peri stretched out their legs, pointing their toes and stretching forward. "What about you, why are you here?"

"My mother mostly, but Elder Auris came to Aurin a six years ago and offered me a place and I wanted to go anyway, so things worked out. I started just after I turned eleven and I've been here ever since." They shifted position to stretch out their side and Reagan smiled, copying. "Where are you from?"

"The Lake."

"Obsidian?" The peryton raised an eyebrow.

"Uh huh. But I'm not a, uh…" Reagan switched to the selkie tongue, searching for the right word. _"fuil fìor-ghlan…"_ She smiled at Peri's look of confusion. "Pureblood in the common tongue."

"Hence no seal skin?"

"Mmm. Some of the other pups were kind of wary of that and some decided to make me the target of their... aggression. I had one friend, but I didn't even tell them I was going to leave." Peri smiled sympathetically. "My dad was supportive, and my father, even if they wanted me to stay a little longer."

"My mother was the same. She wanted me to go, but it was always _'not yet'_. What about you? Do you know who your mother was? Or is?" Reagan glanced at the peryton.

"No. Just that she wasn't or isn't a selkie or a human. Part of me wants to find her, I have so many questions, but another part of me doesn't want to know." Realising she hadn't moved from the last stretch, Reagan fell back into sync with Peri. "What about your father?"

"He left when I was seven. Amicably, I still get along with him, but he's got a new family now, a nine-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old son. They're beautiful, and I love them to pieces, but it's just been me and my mother since then." Peri's eyes drifted over Reagan and she realised how beautiful the peryton was, the sky held in their eyes, offset by the desert tan of their skin. Their antlers were short, no more than six inches, and set towards the front of her head. Standing, she reached just over five and a half feet, with a wingspan of probably seventeen feet. "Come on," Peri offered a hand, which Reagan accepted as she stood up. "Do you know how to spar?" Reagan shook her head. Peri smiled and picked up their staff. "How about I show you a little?"

Reagan couldn't count the minutes passing as Peri showed her how to place her feet, how to shift her weight and dodge, how to feint and land a blow. The sun dipped towards the horizon as a voice coughed politely behind the pair. Peri spun around and bowed their head a little. "Elder Auris, I didn't expect to see you out here." The man standing there was human - probably - and had an amused smile on his face. He appeared to be nearing sixty, wearing black and charcoal grey robes with silver embroidery.

"Well, when you missed our session, and then missed dinner, I wondered what could possibly be keeping you." Peri glanced towards the palace building, to the huge clock face on one of the towers, which currently read 8.27pm. "But I see you've been working hard," he said, turning to Reagan, the smile still on his face. "What is your name?"

"Reagan Talis, I'm a-"

"Selkie?" He asked. Reagan frowned.

"How did you know?" 

"Selkies have a tendency to carry a little extra weight, at least compared to most other races." Reagan opened her mouth to defend herself, but he raised a hand and she paused. "You see, selkies need that weight to keep them warm in the depths of Obsidian Lake, and from what I know, it gets rather cold down there. And despite people's assumptions, they also tend to be relatively quick and agile. We've had a number come through here in my time, and they've all done well." 

"Oh." The Elder smiled. 

"Why don't you and Peri show me what you've been doing all afternoon?" Peri glanced at Reagan with a raised eyebrow and the selkie shrugged, dropping into a stance, fists up to protect her face.

In truth, it didn't take all that long for Peri to have Reagan pinned on the grass, but it wasn't without injury. Reagan had landed a solid blow to the peryton's nose which had left them bleeding and would likely result in two black eyes in the morning. 

Elder Auris helped Reagan up and she brushed off her clothes. He smiled once again, having spent the previous time with his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Peri, take Reagan to the med bay, get yourselves looked at and then head down to the kitchens, I'm sure there will be leftovers, but you'll have to eat with the staff. Once you've eaten dinner, you may show Reagan around before taking her to the Acolyte's Quarters. I will sort her out with uniform, duties and training tomorrow." Peri grinned and glanced at Reagan, who still appeared a little stunned. 

Elder Auris watched as Peri began dragging Reagan towards the palace, reeling off a list of information she'd most likely need to have repeated when she didn't have a concussion. The healers in the medical wing managed to fix what they determined was Peri's broken nose as well as speeding up the healing on Reagan's concussion and staved fingers, leaving the bruise flowering on her cheek to heal naturally. 

The food from the kitchens was full of flavours she'd never tasted before, and by the time Reagan was lying under the black blankets of a soft, springy bed in newly acquired sleeping clothes, she was beginning to process the day's events. Somehow, the Elder had seen something in her ability to fight, and had wanted to bring her on as a student? A little kernel of warmth spread through her chest at his belief in her, and she curled up, happy, to sleep, which came faster than Peri's punches. Her dreams were woven through with images, memories of Roguan and Brinndhar, and of her old friend, Mira, and her new friend, Peri. As she slept, there was a certain hope which began to settle.


	3. Patience and Education

Despite her eagerness to learn, the following year was generally frustrating for Reagan. Although she enjoyed her training sessions with the other acolytes and with Peri, learning to accept her duties and responsibilities was difficult. As someone who'd much rather run free than be tied down, learning to be tied down and be content to help was much harder than she'd anticipated. By the time she was halfway through her second year, she began to find enjoyment in the activities, talking to others while dealing with laundry, listening to the gossip about the latest graduates or infamous operatives who were coming home for the weekend while cleaning the ballroom floor. 

Training with the other acolytes was mostly fun, with many pauses for conversation. With little-to-no supervision, the training occasionally broke into fights, but Reagan noted that the acolytes mostly governed themselves. 

Training with Peri was much more difficult and harder work, with Reagan often left sweaty and sore, even after spending time in the warm baths in the underground chamber of the palace. The mornings after always sucked most, climbing out of a warm bed into cool air where every single muscle, including those she didn't know she had, ached as if she'd just taken a beating, and to her credit, there were plenty of acolytes who never made it out of bed the day after training with a student.

She learned too, about history, about the gods, about magic, about the physicality of the body, and about many other things. The woman in her dreams kept coming, every night, a comfort, almost. Letters came to her often, most of them from Mira wondering where she'd gone, why she'd left and why she never wrote back. Then they stopped asking questions and began telling her things, stories from home, stories about other pups, about the orca who lived closely alongside the selkies, about a newborn blue whale calf, about anything and everything they might think of. It was sweet, yet there was a pang, a longing, that no amount of time spent with Peri quenched.

Part-way into her fourth year at Ingar Palace, Elder Auris found her in the middle of a training session with one of the newer acolytes, who also happened to be nearing ten years younger. Auris leaned in the doorway of the training room and watched Reagan train until the nine-year-old thanked her and ran off to train with another younger acolyte. She turned to smile and bow her head, and somehow, Auris got the sense it was somewhat mocking. He didn't smile, yet there was amusement in his eyes as he waved forward another student, a student two years younger than Reagan who had moved from acolyte to student status around a year before - Adrian. He threw one of the two quarterstaffs he was holding to her and took up a position on the soft mats as the Elder indicated for the acolytes to stand back around the walls of the room. Reagan assessed her opponent, the acolytes, and the Elder, shrugged and dropped into a fighting stance, one hand holding firmly onto the quarterstaff, the other raised in front of her face, protective, but not obstructing vision.

Adrian lunged forward, delivering a swift blow to Reagan's lower leg, forcing her onto one knee. His second blow was easy to block, swung down over head, she raised her own staff with both hands to block the blow, pushing back to both feet. 

There were exactly three occasions in the following few minutes where Reagan thought she might concede the fight to avoid further bruises and injuries, however, there was a look in the Elder's eyes which made her think perhaps this was a fight she needed to win. And, after exactly 204 seconds, Reagan flipped Adrian onto his back, pinning him to the ground both with her legs and the quarterstaff she'd taken from him. Surprisingly, he smiled. She returned the look, albeit confusedly, and stood up, offering a hand to help him up, which he accepted, taking the opportunity to sweep her legs from under her. Seeing the attack coming, she deftly dodged and had him pinned on his front within ten seconds. The Elder smiled, and nodded once, beckoning her forward with a finger and dismissing Adrian to the medical wing.

"Reagan, please go to the medical wing, and then go and get a student's uniform, then change into it and meet me in the Student's Hall in twenty minutes." Her eyes grew wide and she grinned, sprinting off towards the eastern wing.

Exactly twenty minutes later, she was standing in her new uniform, not a thing out of place, at the door to the Student's Hall, which she was yet to see the inside of. As she entered, there was a slight gasp which escaped her lips. This room was much bigger than the acolyte's training hall, more thoroughly equipped and full of students training, both with each other and with mentors and those monks who had returned from missions and had a few days off. While most of the students appeared to be getting their asses kicked, there were a few who had yet to fall and were managing to land at least a few blows. As she glanced up, Reagan caught sight of the roof, the huge oak beams, where more students were training, as well as the stained glass in the roof cascading coloured light down across the space. As her eyes wandered, they met those of Elder Auris, who smiled and paused his training with Peri to wave her over.

The ensuing session primarily resulted in Reagan watching the Elder's instruction of Peri, occasionally trying certain things out and finding that training as a fully fledged student was a little harder than perhaps she'd first anticipated. Still, she held her ground.

Reagan found that in a strange way, though days seemed to drag on into each other, weeks, months, even years flew by faster than they ever had before. Peri graduated less than a year after Reagan began training with Elder Auris, and despite their new status, they always made time to train when they were at the palace. Mira's letter continued to trickle through, one after another, and Reagan came to rely on them a little, as a source of comfort and familiarity in a world she was learning was so much bigger than she might have once imagined, but she loved every minute of every venture and every mission she went on, some with Peri, some with the Elder and some with other students.

Mira, at 18, began to venture away from their clan, leaving to see the world, and to learn, they said. For a year, their letters consisted of the marvels they had seen on their travels, the towering spires of Lilymore, the lights and magic of the Glass City, the small towns where the people were just… kind, and the mountains and plains and forests, snow and desert and everything in between. Nearly a year later, Reagan received a letter dated the 17th of Estros at the Ouroboros festival in 12064, which told her of Mira's accomplishments and how they too had been noticed by someone, a mage of the Chamber Archive, and that they would begin training at the Setting Sun Academy in Redstone Peake immediately. There was excitement behind the letter, and Reagan appreciated the joy and life with which Mira wrote. There were times when she even contemplated picking up a quill and returning a letter, or employing one of the dragons (which were small even in adulthood and never reached more than two feet in length) to take a message to 'Griffin City'. For whatever reason, she never followed through, and her concentration always returned to the Monks of the Obsidian Order at Ingar Palace.


	4. Breakaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling Storm Season 12066

"I don't know what I want!" Reagan threw her hands up in resignation and defeat as Elder Auris sighed and leaned back in his chair, his hands folded carefully in front of him.

"Well, if you want to leave that is up to you, I cannot force you to stay, but I think it is a shame. You have more yet to learn from us, your temper-"

"Control, yes I know, so you keep saying. Whatever. Look, I thought I might be able to fit in here. And I tried, I really tried, for eight years, and I'm no less an outsider than the day I came here." Reagan paced the width of the room, impatient as ever, frustrated, tired from training and exhausted from arguing with Auris for nearing an hour.

"That's not true, you've made friends here, and..." the Elder started, but Reagan cut him off with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"So yes, I'm leaving, I'm sorry to have disappointed you." 

"You haven't disappointed me, Reagan. Look, stay the night. If you still feel this way in the morning, I'll sort out your breakout payment and letter of recommendation and you can be on your way by lunchtime."

"Fine. But I won't change my mind." The Elder studied her for a long moment, unfolding his still-lithe body from his chair and standing up, manoeuvring past his desk to remove an object from a cupboard hidden amongst the bookshelves packed with literature of all kinds, novels of fantasy realms, books about the universe, about rifts, about science, magic and a multitude of other things.

"I know. You're stubborn- determined is a better word. Look, let me give you these." He handed her a bundle, which she carefully sat down to unwrap, revealing a thick tome entitled _Rifts, Portals and Known Worlds_ , as well as a pair of black leather bracers, embroidered with silver and blue thread, lined with a deep blue fur and secured with black leather straps and silver buckles.

"What are these?"

"You've taken an interest in inter-dimensional travel, so this might help with any questions you have. The bracers are enchanted, they should provide a little more protection than the skills I've already given you." Reagan glanced up, studying him intently, she found no sign of ill-will.

"Thank you. It won't change my mind." The Elder smiled and indicated to the door.

"It's late, get some sleep, Reagan."

§ § §

Reagan spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering whether she was making the right decision. But, having always acted on gut instinct, it would have been out of character for her to have changed her mind. She awoke after eight and lay in bed for half an hour before finally getting up and heading to the baths to wash off last night's sweat. For some reason she'd been unusually hot, and her sheets were damp.

Having bathed in the warm water, which she'd learned filtered up from a hot spring, she returned to her room, changed into a clean set of clothes and stripped her bedding, taking it down to the washrooms, where acolytes smiled and took them away to be washed. She headed to the food hall and had breakfast around nine, before deciding to sit in the gardens and read the book she'd been given the day before.

The words seemed to blur before her eyes, and she found the harder she tried to read it, the more it made her head ache. Eventually, she lay down, hands linked behind her head, staring up at the sky and the passing clouds. Closing her eyes, she sighed and tried to relax, meditate like Elder Auris had taught her. However, when she heard a quiet voice whispering her name, she shot into a sitting position, eyes wide open. And yet no one was there. She tried again and fought the urge to fight as the voice whispered her name again. As much as she tried, however, she couldn't relax and ended up stalking back towards the palace, the look of fear on the garden worker's faces telling her that her stance and face was a thunderstorm given skin. They weren't far wrong. 

As she entered, she glanced up the spiralling staircase in the entryway, where the Elder stood. He beckoned and smiled, leading her to one of the smaller training rooms.

"I haven't changed my mind."

"Well then, just enjoy your last training session." Auris did not hold back, and Reagan found herself barely able to get off the floor before she was knocked back again either by a carefully placed punch or by the Elder's staff.

"What is this? Punishment?"

"Get out of your head, Talis, fight back." Reagan snarled, her mother's blood ringing through as her canines seemed to sharpen, just a little. The Elder's face betrayed nothing as he swung with his staff. Reagan's vision slowed and she ducked the staff, blocked his left fist with her right arm, the new bracers strapped securely in place. She used her left hand to grip his wrist and twist, yet his grip on his staff remained firm. Her right fist swung through with a punch which grazed across his cheekbone and he stumbled momentarily before righting himself, smiling. That same voice seemed to whisper in her ear.

 _'Blink.'_ The voice was enough of a distraction that the staff cracked across her cheekbone, breaking she skin, she felt the steady trickle of blood flow down her cheek. But Auris gave no recovery time as he swung to take out her left knee, she jumped the blow, blocked his fist and backed away, feeling the wall, solid at her back. Vision slowed again as the Elder came towards her with the end of his staff. 

"Blink!" Reagan shrieked, out of panic and fear and rage and in desperation. The end of staff hit hard, against the wall where Reagan's head had been less than seconds ago. Reagan's feet his solid ground, she opened her eyes and on instinct, cracked down with her elbow, hitting the nerve between neck and shoulder on Elder Auris, and saw his arm go dead, the staff dropping to the ground. He swung with his other fist, but Reagan blocked and slammed one hand into his chest. He stumbled, falling back to the ground and staring up at her, inhaling a long breath.

"It is as I suspected," the Elder sighed, getting slowly to his feet.

"What is?"

"That I cannot say. I can only give you a name: Tala." Reagan frowned, because the name was like a blanket, familiar, comforting, as if she'd known it all her life.

 _'Yes,'_ the voice whispered. Reagan had many more questions, but the answers were ones she would find alone.

"Thank you. You said something about breakout?"

"I did. It's in my office. Would you mind resetting the shoulder you dislocated?"

"Oh, sorry." Reagan winced and pulled the joint back into position. The Elder rotated his shoulder and picked up his staff. Reagan followed him to his office, where he handed her a vial of glowing turquoise liquid, which she downed in one go. It left the aftertaste of blueberries in her mouth and she felt the bruises and cut on her face, even the broken rib she was sure she had sustained, heal, the pain dulling to an ache. Auris handed her a document, with the seal of the Obsidian Order punched into black wax. He then handed her a hefty coin purse. 

"For the work you have done here, these are all the payments owed to you." Reagan raised an eyebrow at the weight. "You never collected for a lot of your missions, so there's a decent amount in there, maybe 200 platinum?" She nearly dropped the coin purse.

"That much?"

"We pay well. You are free to leave." Reagan smiled and tied the coin purse around her waist, under her cloak. The first thing she wished to do was order new clothes. As much as the uniform of the order was comfortable, she'd decided she would like to have her own signature now. As she left the palace grounds, a weight on her shoulders lifted and she inhaled deeply, heading towards the city.


	5. Tala

Having spent the first fifteen years of her life underwater, and the following eight in the relative safety of Ingar Palace, Reagan Talis, at twenty-three years old, had no idea how to go about living. However, she knew two things: 

Number one. She wanted to visit the Glass City. It was there that she'd get the permit she needed to become a floater - which was a job she discovered a year ago and one which sounded like a hell of a lot of fun, and perhaps something she might be good at.

Number two. Well, she wasn't entirely sure what number two was.

It was barely an hour's walk from Ingar Palace to Obsidian Harbour, but, having not been in anything other than the underground pools for eight years, Reagan very quickly decided that she'd swim. The Haalstrom river was beautiful and clear, the waters naturally tinted blue-green, despite running into a black lake. Reagan smiled at the water, pulling off her sturdy boots and setting them beside her as she sat down, sticking her toes in the water and feeling the warmth of the early afternoon sun on her skin. The cool water wound around her toes and fish swam past, otters, water birds, none of them seeming to mind her presence. Glancing down at her clothes, the realisation that they'd likely be ruined by the water hit her like a brick.

"Fuck."

"What's wrong?" Reagan jumped to her feet in a blur of movement, fists raised and already swinging. Thankfully, the owner of the voice was standing ten feet away.

"Dammit you made me jump," Reagan sighed at the stranger, dropping her stance after assessing that they had no weapons, though absolutely still ready to knock the living daylights out of them if they made a move.

"I apologise. My name is Tala," the woman extended an elegant, perfect hand, which Reagan was reluctant to take by the sheer nature of the callouses on her own hands. She looked young, yet she felt old, her being, her presence felt old. Pointed ears, blue eyes, skin that was significantly darker than Reagan's - although given that Reagan was the palest person she'd met, and spending more than an hour in the sun effectively turned her into a lobster, that wasn't particularly difficult. The woman had long brown hair currently tied up in two ponytails, and a strange horn which protruded from just above and behind her temples and appeared to be a ring, broken at around the 2 'o' clock mark. 

"Hi. Any reason you felt the need to sneak up behind me?" The woman's head tilted in confusion, and Reagan was almost sure they'd met before.

"I wasn't...? I was just... never mind." The woman sat down on the bank of the river, also dangling her toes in the river, although Reagan was certain she'd been wearing shoes moments before.

"How did you...?" 

"How did I what?" Reagan sat down again, curiosity defeating reason once again. The woman grinned. "I can do many things."

"Why do you look familiar?"

"Ah. I did wonder. I thought perhaps the dreams weren't reaching you. Perhaps they did, just not quite in the way I'd expected or intended. It's a little difficult for me to explain, Reagan, and to be honest with you, I'm not sure you're quite ready for the answers to the questions you seek." 

"But you can tell me?" Tala inclined her head in confirmation. "Then I can wait." She smiled and waved a hand, and just beyond her, a blade appeared in the grass.

"That will help with the blink. And maybe a few other things." Reagan stared at her as she moved to pick up the weapon and began studying it. Long blade, curved - a scimitar - inscribed with runes, with a blue gem in the pommel. It was beautifully made and perfectly balanced, and when Reagan turned to thank the woman for it, she had vanished. Frowning, she carefully picked up the blade, testing its weight in her hand, how it sliced through the air. Remembering the woman's words, Reagan stared intently at the blade, focused on a space just 20 or so feet away, closed her eyes and uttered one word, quietly.

"Blink." She felt the cold wrap around her, weightlessness and somersaulting over and over, then she was lying in the grass, the sunlight shining on her face. Her boots 25 feet away, the scimitar still in hand. She sat up quickly and lifted the blade, staring at the runes, where blue light was fading back to steel. Breathing out a long breath, she stood up and refocused on the space next to her boots. "Blink." The runes lit up and then again, the cold, like a blanket. Except she didn't close her eyes. 

All around her rocks floated, lightning arcing and cracking between them. Less than fifty feet away, a creature, draconic in a sense, yet not of her world, glanced at her and nodded, seemed to smile. Then the blues and greens of her world returned, as she rolled and returned to her feet, perfectly next to her boots. As she planted the scimitar in the ground and released it, it disappeared. Confused, Reagan opened her hand, brought the image of the blade into the forefront of her mind and felt the weight of it once again as her fingers wrapped around the grip. Swinging in around loosely, she cut through the air, watching the runes flash as a little rip appeared in the air, like lightning, frozen in place. Willing to trust, even if she didn't understand, she picked up her boots and threw them towards the crack, watching as it flashed blue and the boots disappeared. As she reached out and thought about them, they also appeared in her hand. "No way." She returned the boots to the crack, then followed it with the bundle of spare clothes she'd been carrying, then the clothes she was wearing, save for her underwear, which was the same underwear she'd brought to Ingar Palace in the first place (being the kind of thing that was designed and made by selkies and able to withstand the water for years. Both her dad and her father had made jokes about selkie cloth being virtually indestructible. As she released the blade, both it and the tear disappeared and she dived into the river without a second thought. As she broke through the surface and swam down, she ducked into an overhang of the riverbank and focused on the sword. It appeared in her hand and she smiled, little bubbles rising to the surface. She focused on the tear and it reappeared, frozen lightning beneath the water. She released it again, and everything disappeared, allowing her to swim on. 

She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to just let go and swim, but as the cool water flowed past her skin, through her hair, she released herself to it, and her legs and arms became flippers, her whiskers could sense fish a thousand feet ahead, and she didn't even notice the selkie clothes she shed as they disappeared into the tear which opened and closed in only a moment. She was strong and fast and free and there was an entire future ahead of her, and Reagan wasn't afraid.


	6. The Glass City

The Orca wasn't exactly a fast ship, but it was certainly majestic. The black and white paint scheme was nearly perfectly accurate and the white sails billowed in the wind. The trip up from Obsidian Lake to the Glass City was due to be a week long, but fair winds cut it short by a day. Having written ahead to notify her arrival and request an appointment at the palace, she'd received a letter upon arrival at the docks, which informed her of a meeting arranged for four day's time, at 11 'o' clock on the 29th of Fallon 12066.

Reagan smiled at the letter and it's indigo wax seal, tucking it safely into her tunic and then realising that despite it being the season of Falling Storms it was much too hot to be wearing her cloak. Upon traversing the city, she found a tavern called the Red Crown, run by a beautiful twenty-two-year-old half-griffin by the name of Rosanna, of the Redstone Family, curly copper hair tied back off her neck. Her grandmother and aunt owned the tavern, but she kept the bar when she wasn't attending the Academy of Music on a flautist's scholarship, and since it was the last day of the working week, she had a few days off.

Reagan spent the next day working up the courage to ask the barmaid out, and then the two nights after in her bedroom. With a storm hitting on the second day, she spent a lot of time sitting curled up by the fire, listening to Rosanna's flute practice and either reading books or sitting in contemplative thought, watching the rain drip down the window. However, with Rosanna's hectic performance and education schedule, Reagan didn't really see her again after the week started. 

Reagan arrived for her meeting at the palace soaking wet due to the incessant rain of the season, and felt rather more like a drowned rat than a creature of the ocean as she stood, dripping water onto the throne room floor. High Royal Erudice Myriad simply raised an eyebrow and smiled calmly, waving at a few servants dressed in the navy blue and indigo colours of the city, who waved their hands, and the water was drawn out of her clothes and moved into drains in the corners of the room. She nodded her head once in thanks as the High Royal stood from their throne.

"Reagan of the Talis clan?"

"That's my name." Erudice seemed to smirk, subtly, almost imperceptibly.

"Indeed it is. You are looking for a Floater's Permit?"

"Yup," Reagan confirmed, before remembering that she was speaking to the ruler of an entire continent and amended the statement to "Yes, High Royal." They waved their hand in a dismissive motion.

"Please. Formalities bore me. I was interested to meet you. Your reference is impeccable. I'm just curious as to why you wish to become a Floater rather than completing your training." They did seem curious, and given that Reagan was usually quite good at figuring people out, she figured an honest answer wouldn't hurt.

"Thank you. I've spent eight years studying under Elder Auris at Ingar Palace. It was fun, for a while, good even, but I - and my people - are creatures of the ocean, and I missed it. I'd like the opportunity to sail," she explained.

"I can understand that, maybe, but why not join the water force? Or hell, even go directly to a pirate vessel?"

"I don't like being tied down. I need freedoms, to go wherever and do whatever I want or need to do. It sounds selfish," Reagan admitted, though she wouldn't apologise for it.

"A little. But there's no shame in being a little selfish sometimes. The permit is yours. You'll have to talk to the clerks and show them your identity card, but the process shouldn't take more than an afternoon. Nathaniel will take you." They waved a hand at a tall, dark-skinned female with silver hair, eyes and wings, dressed in a similar navy blue and indigo uniform as the servants, with silver-coloured armour over the top. She smiled calmly and nodded her head once, resting one hand on the rapier on her left hip. As she pushed herself out of the shadows and faced the High Royal, Reagan caught sight of a wicked double ended scimitar strapped between her wings.

"Respectfully, Erudice, my duty is to protect the crown," she addressed the dais before turning to Reagan. "Lila will take you." Reagan - not trusting herself to speak - decided to nod gratefully and turn to the servant who stepped forward with a quiet smile. 

True to their word, the paperwork for her Floater's Permit only took the afternoon to be processed and completed, and as such, Reagan spent an afternoon wandering the palace halls, Lila always following, but given that Reagan spent pretty much all of that time in the castle library, which was vast, bigger even than the one at Ingar Palace, and likely bigger than any on the continent. But, as it was public access, various people wandered in and out to pick up or drop off books of all kinds of subjects. 

Despite intending to study, Reagan ended up mostly watching the people, getting a feel for the life of the city. It was nice, and though this was a city of artists and musicians whose patron god was Muse, libraries across the continent had small symbols of Aerius - the goddess of truth, the mind, knowledge and learning - in the entryway. And everyone who entered the palace library honoured the statue before moving any further in, and those leaving thanked Aerius for her help, and in most other libraries, they would leave a few coins to help with the upkeep of the libraries. Reagan was fully aware that the continent of Miri had a pantheon of four major gods, with various smaller deities, and she was aware of some of the history, so after contemplating religion for a little while, she said her prayer to Aerius and went looking for a book regarding Tala.

After a little while of searching, she found one which referenced the goddess and it only gave so much information. 

_Tala is one of a duality of lesser known gods from a lost world belonging to a race known as the Erudon. When the horsemen..._

A shiver ran over Reagan's spine. The stories of the five deities of chaos and destruction were numerous, and none of them were good. Both parents had warned her about the Deadwood Isles, where the four major deities had imprisoned the horsemen millennia ago, and how nothing can live there. It was safe to say, Reagan had no desire to ever end up there.

_...invaded the world of the Erudon, they were an angelic race serving the world's pantheon of gods. They interacted with the races which used to live in their world and were responsible for stopping the horsemen, but when they failed, every person in their world died. They were cast down by the gods to protect them as the horsemen slaughtered the gods before moving on to this world. The Erudon were no longer angelic, but they retained two of their former abilities: teleportation and healing. They became a green-blooded race with a green, blue and gold colouring and a horn arcing between their temples which was a mockery of their former haloes. As a race, they were split into three groups, the Skyblood had pale colouring with white, the Riverblood had dark colouring and the Starblood had brighter colouring and greater power._

_Centuries ago, Tala was born to the ruling house of Eir with the name Eir'Tayar, twin of Eir'Rayla and the title of Rex'an until she turned nineteen and became Rex Eir'Tayar of the Starblood. However, Rayla and Tayar agreed that neither of them desired to rule. Instead, in a dangerous and untested magic, the twins traded their powers, with Eir'Tayar gaining greater power over teleportation, rifts and portals, and Eir'Rayla gaining greater power over healing. The twins then changed their names to Tala and Ruin and ascended the Erudon, gaining the following which made them gods in their own rights. Still closely linked, Ruin has often been closely aligned with the major god of healing, Cleophus, despite her more chaotic use of healing magic, while Tala gained her own following, which while small, was mostly comprised of travellers and adventurers._

In a different handwriting lay the following words: **It has been rumoured that a demigod was born of Tala, but as of yet, there has been no evidence to support this. However, this child is prophesied to aid a group of adventurers who will save this world from the threat of the horsemen.**

Reagan closed the book and rubbed her eyes. Gods she could believe in, but demi-gods and prophecy? That seemed a little far fetched, even _with_ the near-limitless possibilities magic allowed for. 

"Find what you were looking for?" A kindly librarian smiled, wearing the cream and lilac robes of a devout follower of Aerius. Probably a mage.

"Maybe. Can you tell me anything about demi-gods? Or prophecies?" The librarian adjusted his glasses and sat opposite her at the study table. 

"Well, it is certainly a complex subject. I'm afraid prophecy is outside the realms of my knowledge, but I am aware of spells which allow a person to see the actions of another."

"Like scrying?" Reagan asked.

"Exactly. And demi-gods. Well, I believe the gods may walk among us if they so choose, I certainly feel Aerius all around us, and they may well have children."

"How would you know though? If someone were?"

"I imagine there might be differences. Take the werewolves for example. Eons ago, they were nomadic wolf shifters, not tied to any one place, and instead roaming the continent in packs. The horsemen, when the six tribes of peoples of this world locked them away, they cursed the shifters, turning them into beasts. Those born retained some of their abilities, control over their shifting, but then other races could be turned by a claw or bite. I believe that a demi-god might, perhaps, function similarly to this. Looking and even potentially acting just the same as any other of their race, yet also being fundamentally different in some way. But, I am no healer, and I have no training in physiology, only in history and learning. If you wanted more information, I have a few friends who are working together on subjects like this. I could give you their details?" Reagan contemplated the idea.

"No, but thank you." The librarian nodded as Lila began waving towards her, and Reagan excused herself and headed towards the servant.

"I've collected your permit for you. You seemed busy here, so I thought I'd bring it."

"Thank you Lila," Reagan smiled and slipped a gold piece into the servant's hand. Lila nodded and smiled as Reagan headed towards the exit door, glancing around as she paused by the small shrine.

"Blessings of learning, many thanks be unto you," Reagan uttered, bowing her head a little. As she straightened up, she could have sworn she felt warm fingers gripping her upper arm, and Mira's voice - merged with another, feminine, unfamiliar voice - whispering into her ear.

 _"Mira is under my protection. You'll see her again. Soon."_ And the presence departed. 

Stepping out of the palace, Reagan glanced up, rain still pouring downward. "Hey, Tala?" The sound of rain beating on the cobblestones continued.


	7. The Sirenblood

Reagan spent another day in the Glass City before one of the ships in the harbour decided to take her on. The captain was a rather grouchy old human man who explained that this ship was mostly a long-distance passenger vessel and was headed up the coast to the continent of Ingo. She was informed that it was partially steam and partially wind powered, and that she'd be responsible for shovelling coal for the steam power once they got out of Miri's waters. It wasn't perhaps the most enamouring task, and it was hard work, but there was a sense of accomplishment that came with every jolt of speed.

The month-long voyage had the ship arriving in Ingo, specifically the city of … the day before the Samhain festival, which would take place on the 31st of Mordri. The city was not dissimilar to the Glass City in many ways, one of the only notable differences were in the population demographic, which was a much higher proportion of Thunderbirds. Though the ship sailed back to the Glass City the following day, Reagan stayed to enjoy the festival, the magical explosions of light, the bonfires, the rich wines, the laughter, and wild, somewhat reckless dancing, spending the night with a beautiful Thunderbird with deep indigo and silver feathers, whose name she didn't remember as she crept out the following morning. Having turned to Snow Season, the harbour was covered in a layer of mist, and there was something eerie about the sails of various ships seeming to float above, but the first snow would not fall for another few weeks at least.

As she sat, sketching the image of the harbour in her notebook, she felt a wind brush past and a figure sitting next to her. Without looking up, Reagan sighed. "It's about bloody time. I've been calling."

"I know. And I've been watching," Tala replied.

"Watching? What's that supposed to mean? See, this is why I never put faith in gods. As a rule, y'all are creepy as fuck."

"Reagan…" The voice was almost reprimanding. "There are others. I have to attend to more than just you."

"And? You're the freaking goddess of interdimensional travel and teleportation? Can't you just appear?"

"It isn't that simple."

"It never is," Reagan shot back. She paused, thinking, processing, and Tala stayed quiet. "Do you know who my mother is?" The question lingered in the air.

"Why?" Reagan rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Curiosity." 

"I do." Reagan paused, breath catching. "Do you want to know?" Half a thousand thoughts passed through her mind in an instant. Yes and no. No and yes.

"No."

"No?" Tala sounded confused by the response.

"No," Reagan confirmed.

"Okay. Take the Sirenblood. Dull navy-teal hull and blood red sails. Captain Reon. I'll be waiting when you arrive." Tala's form dispersed into the mist and Reagan didn't bother to ask where. She paused a moment to put her belongings away before trekking down to the harbour. 

The Sirenblood was exactly as the goddess had described it, the deck was dark mahogany and though the colour of the hull did not blend with the clear, slightly turquoise waters of this warm area around the ocean, she imagined it might in colder waters. 

"I'm looking for Captain Reon. Anyone?" Reagan addressed the crew members aboard. One face glanced up from the ropes, cream-white bandana holding a mane of wildly frizzy dark brown hair out of a feminine face.

"That'd be me. You a guard?"

"No? I'm looking for work, got any positions which need filling?"

"Could do with a navigator? Ours was… taken during the last voyage. Any good with a map?" The woman leaned back against the main mast, muscled arms folded across her chest, cream-white shirt open at the neck to reveal dark skin crossed with scars, one of which continued up her neck and onto her cheek and up through her eye and brow. That same eye was cloudy white as opposed to the dark golden brown of the other eye.

"I don't know. But I'm a selkie. And I'm very good with the ocean."

"Well then, welcome aboard. Captain Reon," she smiled, offering a hand, which Reagan shook. "My first mate is Luis, he's below deck just now, but I'm sure he'll be along in a minute."

"Where we headed then?"

"Where the wind takes us. To do battle and find riches. Can you fight?" Reagan smirked, glancing at the raised barrier on the opposite side of the ship. In less than a moment, she disappeared and reappeared exactly where she'd aimed, her weapon summoned and in hand.

"At the drop of a hat," Reagan grinned, letting the weapon vanish into nowhere. The captain returned the grin, and her arm reached out, a dual-ended spear flying into her open hand.

"Good. We leave immediately." The captain began shouting orders to the crew as she swung the weapon onto her back, tucking it through a set of three leather straps. The crew members began scurrying into positions, dropping the sails and letting the building wind pull the ship out of the harbour.

§ § §

It was upon the Sirenblood that Reagan got her first taste of battle. Having come across a ship with a white flag hoisted, Reon had begun smiling broadly. "Aside from our freedom, there is nothing better than jewels and gold," she told Reagan, eyes narrowed on the ship, calculating. "Make ready for a fight. Cannons first, aim for the rudder and sails, then long-shooters to take out the crew, then us."

"Take out?" Reagan asked uncertainly.

"We don't kill them, if that's what you mean. Or at least we try not to. But, if we can take out the rudder and sails, that leaves them dead in the water, they can't follow. Then we aim for legs, knees, arms. They won't die, but they won't be able to stop us. By the time those two things are done there isn't much for us to do usually. But you know, things go wrong all the time. We've sunk a few ships in our time, and no doubt we'll sink a few more, but mostly we try to leave them alive, if stranded."

"But if they know your faces, they can alert the authorities." Reon grinned and waved an arm over her face, her entire appearance shifting to that of a gruff, stockily-built older man with much lighter skin.

"Can they?" Reagan couldn't help the grin which spread across her face as they turned to stare at the ship again. As they drew within two miles, Reon moved to the main deck. "Alright positions, now, we'll be in contact in 10 minutes, so I want the first volley of cannon fire from the starboard cannons ready in eight minutes and holding for my signal." As she finished speaking, people began moving at speed down to the gun deck below, nerves and excitement building. Reagan moved to the back of the ship, staring down into the water. Reaching one hand towards the front of the boat, and one to the back, she focused on the water, on making it part a little, on making the ship sail faster. As she did, the ship lurched forward, building speed. Reon grinned at her and began speaking hurriedly with Luis, the first mate and Ettienne, who appeared to be the master gunner, in a language Reagan didn't understand. Foreign, she guessed, which made sense given that the Sirenblood originally hailed from Caravorre. Reagan, being - apparently - good at languages, had picked up a few words, but only just enough to make life a little easier should she ever find her way there. That seemed to be about the limit of her language-learning capabilities.

As the ship drew ever closer, Reagan heard the sounds of hurried conversation from below deck, the clanging of heavy metal equipment being pulled into position, and then _"FIRE!"_ screamed by Ettienne, followed by the ear-splitting blast of the Sirenblood's cannons, tearing through the opposing ship's primary mast and mainsail, as well as through the rudder, the other cannonballs tearing harmlessly through air and splashing ocean water onto the deck. Hurried movement was just visible as the captain of the other ship began shouting orders. As he did, Reon raised an arm at the gunners who'd run quickly onto deck and picked up a longbow and quiver of arrows each. They nocked and aimed, holding until they were in range and Ettienne shouted _"Loose!"_ The volley of arrows landed all over the ship, striking - for the most part as promised - primarily the legs and arms of the crew, leaving very few able to stand or hold a weapon. A few fell to the deck and twitched, otherwise unmoving. The few that were left stood on deck, their previously confidently-brandished cutlasses being lowered or dropped completely. The apparent captain of the other ship got to his feet, clutching his shoulder where a wooden shaft with deep red feathers now lay, the metal arrowhead - even at this distance - visible through his clothes.

As the other ship - The Smoking Cannon - drifted to a halt in the water, Reon carefully manoeuvred the Sirenblood alongside, her crew, now all in disguise, leaping across as she inclined her head and gestured to the Smoking Cannon. "Reagan, care to join me?" Reagan grinned from her position on the rear deck, summoning her blade, she vanished, reappearing directly next to the captain of the Sirenblood.

"Don't mind if I do," she replied, gripping Reon's shoulder and disappearing, only to near-instantaneously reappear on the deck of the opposing ship, staring straight into the Captain's eyes as he flinched. Reagan smothered a grin and raised her blade, faint mist pouring from the metal and curling along her hand as she narrowed her eyes.

"Your ship is stranded, damage has been done. My crew is searching, and anything they find will be coming with us. We will leave you enough supplies to last either until you reach the island south of here or until you are rescued. Use rations well," Reon told him. The Captain's face curled into a snarl, but Reagan raised her blade a little more, letting it bite into his neck, watching as the edges of the wound began to darken as the blade's enchantment lanced the minor wound with ice, worsening it, just a little. The snarl soon died as his eyes widened in pain and what Reagan thought could only be fear. "Get on your knees," Reon ordered, staring him down as the Captain knelt, hands placed behind his head.

"Good boy," Reagan uttered, smirking as the weapon vanished from his hand. "Just because it is not here now, does not mean that I cannot bring it back with a flick of my wrist." Reon's illusionary form returned Reagan's spreading grin, the Selkie's teeth just a little too sharp, her grin just a little too feral. The Captain of the Smoking Cannon shuddered.

It took less than two minutes for Reon's crew to board the ship, gather the supplies and take them back to their own ship, a process done quickly and quietly, until the last moment when the sails unfurled and the Sirenblood began to move away. As it did, Reagan stayed, just smirking at the captain until the front of the ship reached her maximum teleportation distance, at which point, she gripped Reon's shoulder and vanished them into thin air, leaving a terror-inducing cackle on the wind as they reappeared on the rear deck of the Sirenblood. Reagan gave the crew of the Smoking Cannon a mocking salute and turned to the wheel as Reon and the crew's illusions dropped.

"Damn girl! That was insane!" Reon applauded and Reagan couldn't wipe the grin off her face as the captain raised her voice: "Next time we hit land, drinks are on me!" To the merry sound of the crew's cheers and applause, Reon began to turn the ship due east, headed for Carravorre and the adventures it might hold.


End file.
